Not a Kid Anymore
by Ophelia'song
Summary: Nightwing finds himself at odds with his morality. Rose insists she isn't a kid anymore and is more than happy to demonstrate. Just a little shameful Rose/Nightwing pairing to brighten your day. Enjoy!


**A/N: Hi guys! So I'm still waiting on my beta to finish editing the next installment of Red Hand, but in the meant time I wrote this lil oneshot for my friend Kaitlyn! lol (Confession I ship the shit out of this pairing too!) This is my first completed smut piece so please feel free to be constructive. I hope you enjoy it cause I'm going to hell for writing it! Also I don't not own these characters. Love you all!**

 **With Love -Ophelia**

He couldn't believe what he was doing, yet there he was, entertaining her long held fantasy. He never thought he'd see that day the metaphorical son of the Dark Knight laid in the lap of the great mercenary's daughter. But God in that moment, he wanted to fuck her.

It was never really like that between them (or at least for him it wasn't) though it was something he'd begrudgingly thought about every now and then. Mostly because it was something she'd wanted since the moment they'd met. She just craved to savor the taste of that man, she wanted nothing more than to know what he felt like.

He pulled her to him, taking in the scent of her breath, the soft aroma of cigarettes and _Old Crow_ dripping from her lips. A scent he'd never otherwise find inviting, but from her, it was deliciously welcoming as he guided her lips to his, the taste of whisky still fresh on her tongue.

He wasn't sure why he was feeling this way, he'd never looked at her like that. Maybe it was just what she'd said?

 _"I'm not a kid anymore…"_

Those words lyrically replayed in his head as he took a handful of her lily white hair and tugged her head back. She giggled, satisfied, victory just at her lips. She glanced up, a yearning look in that pretty blue eye. He leaned into her again, placing his lips to her neck, traveling down the delicate plane of her skin. He could feel her trembling, something he never thought possible. To him, she was immovable, void of that kind of weakness. Yet there she was at his fingertips, relinquishing her control and allowing him to make her feel that way.

Part of him asked himself as he let his hands trailed down her body, tugging at her clothing and slipping his fingers beneath the loosening fabric, if he were doing this out of some poetic irony. Like some silent punishment for the man he resented most. To just look into that cold steely eye and know that he knew _his_ daughter like that, that he'd touched her that way. That he could make _daddy's_ little _kitten_ purr for him.

She'd begun pulling off his uniform, her small hands greedily taking in every inch of him—every muscle, every birth mark, every scar and perfect imperfection. She wanted to remember him, she'd waited so long, falling victim to so many failed attempts at getting him to see her this way, to give her that release she so desperately longed for.

In a moment of drunken euphoria, she slipped her warm hand below his belt. He let a surprised, but gratified groan escape his throat, his breath hitting her face with a rewarding force. She smiled precociously and playfully bit her lip as she continued to fondle him, trying to pull him back toward her embrace again. He let out another desperate groan just at her open mouth, her lips ready to drink in his every lustful sigh.

He suddenly gripped his hand around her fine wrist, pausing a moment, as though fighting with his senses and maturity. Then finally pulled her grip from him.

"Rose," he whispered leaning his half bare body against hers, "I can't—I can't do this to you…"

A sobering look surfaced on her flushed face and her hand fell at the base of his neck, her other finding refuge on his reddening chest. "I told you," she sighed breathlessly, "I'm not a _kid_ anymore."

And she wasn't, she hadn't been for a long time. So why was he so insistent on keeping her one?

She leaned in and pressed her lips to his again, softly. His eyes closed accepting it, his body ready to take her, his mind however, still wasn't quite sold.

He tried to pull away again, but just couldn't seem to get very far. He wanted her, and he hated himself for it. She'd somehow pushed him against the wall of his apartment, and he'd let her, not even replying with an ounce of protest. She began pulling her uniform off her shoulders, and he cursed himself for undoing the zipper, his better judgment overcome by fever. Her lips fell across his chest, a gentle nipping following over the warm flesh that wanted so badly to throw her down and commit every last sinful thought that rolled across his heated mind.

God this was wrong, but there was something so right about the way she touched him, the way her fingers crept along his landscape. Maybe it was because he knew he shouldn't have her, or maybe, it was just that he could, and even though he shouldn't, he wanted her too.

Her uniform fell around her feet, leaving her in nothing but a skimpy black bra and a thin pair of (all things) red panties.

"Fuck," he muttered against her lips as they crashed into his. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, suffocating the last of his apprehension that struggled to keep her pure to him.

He reached down, his hands feeling every curve of her now womanly body beneath his grip. He had to have her—he had to have her _now._

His hands stopped about her hips, helping himself to a handful of her ass. She knew she had him now, she could feel herself running through his veins in a blistering fever he was too weak to immune himself to. She'd finally gotten her way. She'd won.

He lifted her into his lap, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist eagerly. He took another handful of her hair, biting at her neck and jawline, a long heavy moan slipping free from her mouth, the sound so soft and telling. He turned, throwing her down on the desk beside them, still ravenously pulling her hair and biting her bottom lip.

He broke away from her a moment, she looked back at him hungrily, begging him to do so many things she'd thought about a time or two.

"You can do whatever you want to me," she whispered, the words drifting off her swollen lips like a husky smoke. She drew up closer to him as he hovered over her near bare form. She parted her lips just at his, looking him in the eye. "And I will do whatever you want me to."

He looked back at her, his tongue unable to craft a verbal response. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, and she knew exactly what he wanted.

He gripped the back of her neck, as he kissed her with more conviction in his touch. He let his free hand travel between her thighs, parting them enough to invite himself in the space between. Her body replied in an alluring way, pulling him closer, letting him know how much she wanted him there. His hands wrapped themselves around her face, drinking every enticing whine and breath—every sigh she uttered for him.

Beneath him he could feel the lace of her undergarments grazing his skin. He could feel her lips and tongue teasing his neck and earlobes, fire just at the edge of her breath. He was absolutely aching for her, his blood boiling beneath the hands and finger nails that gently dug into the skin of his back. He slipped his hands under the lowest plane of her back, feeling the threshold where her bare skin met the warning of that tempting red lace. He lifted her up, guiding her on top of him. He sat up to meet her in his lap. She gave him a feverish smirk, then pushed him backward with forceful hands. He gasped, a rush of excitement pounding in his chest. She could feel his heart beat just below her heated palm, holding him beneath her melting grip. She looked at him with a smoldering glare, biting her lower lip as her breasts rose and fell with each heated breath she took. She let her free hand drift behind the back of her neck, sweeping her silver hair off her back and over her left shoulder. He watched as she did so, entranced by the graceful motion. Her hand then strayed behind her back, unclasping her delicate bra in a swift, effortless shift. She noticed his mouth fall ajar, and gave him a coy grin, sweeping a pinky over the rogue hair that fell in her face. She smugly hooked her thumbs around the falling straps, teasing him as the garment slowly drifted down her fair arms. She threw it to the floor and arched her back, watching him writhe below her as he reached up to touch her white hot flesh.

She leaned forward, provocatively, grinding her hips into his tightening groin. She bit his bottom lip playfully, holding it between her teeth. She kissed him roughly, his fingertips ready to slip down below that red borderline.

"Not yet," she smiled down at him, "I'm not done playing with you yet."

She bit down on his chin, feeling the light growth of stubble under her lips as she began to travel the plane of his jaw, neck, and abdomon. Her hands followed, once again tracing the scars and muscles, kissing them with a breed of passion he never thought her capable of. He pulled himself to his elbows, looking down at her as she looked up at him from his belt. Her icy blue eye caught in his ocean deep glance. Her chin hovered just above the buckle, she knew exactly what he wanted her to do, but he just couldn't bring himself to ask her for it.

She brought her fingers to his buckle, letting them dabble upon it till it came undone. They then wrapped themselves around the waist line of his uniform, her hands pulling it down to free him of its confines. She looked up at him from his lap again, a cunning and familiar look in her eye. Her lips parted, her mouth open, then he was consumed.

His head fell back, his heart sank, and his chest rose with the frenzying feeling that shivered through his entire body, a moment short of death. He cursed, wondering if this was indeed what it felt like to die. The sentiment bringing him to a place of guilt as he burned with the very heat of hell. He ironically uttered an unwilling plea for God, though it seemed that there was nothing that could save him now.

He let his body give in to the motion of her tongue, falling back as he could recall the very words she'd woven with that very tongue. The ones that led him to indulge in that very act. His hands tangled in her moonlit hair as he groaned. He was sick with her now, and in a way he never thought he could be with her. But there was just something about the way she'd taken him, seizing him by the sweaty palm, and pulling him into her blissful abyss. She saw him differently, she always had. She had no expectations of him, she just took him as is, no questions asked.

Deep moans and sighs escaped his throat as he quivered at the tip of her tongue, each little suck provoking a tremendous torment. His body quaked as her lips tightened around his cock, the pain sweet, yet bitterly unforgiving. From time to time she'd glance up at him, taking in the satisfying sight as he writhed and cried from her efforts. Her eye lit wickedly, a little high on the power she, for once, had over him. He could suddenly feel the rake of her teeth teasing the edge of his afflicted flesh. God that hurt in the very best way. He'd cum if she kept that up.

He gripped the nape of her neck, lacing his fingers through the wintery strands and pulled her from him.

He rose from his back, meeting her chest, taking in a mouth full of her firm breast. He could taste the light salt on her skin, mixing with the lavender taste of her lotion . His hands slid down her back, his palms calloused and rough as they sunk down her spine. She reveled in the feeling, feeling the cuts and cracks taking hold of her. She finally felt like she was held in the hands of a real man as they wrapped themselves around the back of her thighs and pulled them around his waist again.

She braced her arms around his neck as he threw her down on her back and climbed on top of her, pressing his lips and tongue to her hills and valleys below, his coarse hands now roaming down her country side. She let out a thin gasped as he slipped his fingers beneath the red lace and into her gentle embrace. He could feel her melt into the touch, as they hooked themselves and caught her there.

He bit deep into her neck, hearing her cry his name into his ear as her withering body gripped him tight. He let his fingers tangle in the red lace, the garment the only thing between them now. He ripped them off, his coarse knuckles grazing over the curves of her thighs and the ridges of her knees.

He let the garment tumble to the floor and ran his rugged hands down the soft skin of her thighs. He leaned forward, placing his elbows at the sides of her hips, hovering between her open legs and biting his way down their bloomed complexion. She could feel his breath growing dangerously close to her autonomy, anticipation growing as his hands cupped around her legs, pulling her closer to his open mouth. He let out another deep, warm breath and bit down upon the forbidden fruit he always thought he'd never taste. She shivered as his tongue lapped her up, her honey dripping like a ripe grapefruit freshly plucked from its vine. Shrill whines pierced the air, his name hanging off her lips in italics as she cried out for him. He smiled and sunk his tongue deeper inside of her, savoring the taste of her sweet cunt, slipping his middle and index finger down to the bare knuckle.

Her hips rolled and she let out a deeper, fervor cry, asking him—no begging him—to fuck her now, each gentle stroke of his tongue pushing on the demand. He glanced up at her one last time, satisfied with the agony taut in her body as she clawed about her neck and breasts and drunkenly bit down on her one last time.

He stood up, straightening his back as he ran his wrist over his damp mouth. She pulled herself up to meet his chest, nibbling at his neck and collarbone then finally his lips. He pushed her backward, only by a little, the calloused hands she'd grown to adore, firmly wrapped around her hips. He anchored himself into her lap as she clung to his neck, anticipation aching in her core.

 _I'll never forgive myself for this,_ he thought, too entrenched and intimate with her now, his body much too close to hers to turn away.

He bit down hard upon her bottom lip, taking in her breath as if it were his own and buried himself deep into her sweetest embrace. She hissed as she took him in, the fire of that contact running up her spine, his body, now for the moment, a part of her own.

"Damn, Rose," he whispered breathlessly in her ear.

He cradled her neck as she felt him hither deeper, a slow intimate motion she was not accustomed to, but in that moment, she didn't seem to mind. She wrapped her legs around him tightly, pulling him closer and deeper into her. He let out a deep husky groan, holding her protectively, taking in the smoky scent of lilacs that rolled off her hair. However, he could tell by the way she bucked her hips that she was biting at the bit to be let out of the gate. He knew then if he were going to tame this filly, he'd have to ride her a hell of a lot harder.

He hoisted her up, her legs tight around his waist and pushed her back against the wall, grinding into her with a deeper, punishing rhythm. She whimpered in his ears helplessly, becoming overcome almost instantly. He beat into her a little harder, increasing the intoxicated nature of her cries as she gripped his body feverishly tight.

He should have known that she'd like it rough. Even a little rougher than he'd previously expected.

He kept up the pace, breathing her in like a drug, her growls and grunts pushing him on. He was supprised at how inticing it was, hearing her curse at him, her pretty mouth whispering such sinfully dirty things in his ear so sweetly. And the way she felt… it was too good.

He could feel her starting to give in, her body sinking threateningly close to that final moment. He was gonna have to make this one count.

He turned and threw her down on his bed, still cold from the night before. She looked up at him, ready to beseech to anything he wanted. He reached down and took her in his calloused hands, bristly flipping her over and pulled her to her knees. Without missing a beat, he took her again, meeting her with a faster febrile pace. His hand knotted in her hair, pulling it back as she moaned for him under that brilliant torment. Each cry hungry, and desperate, and yearning for that moment.

She cursed at him again, feeling like she was momentarily made of a fine glass, her surface becoming deeply cracked as they grew deeper and deeper into her soul. They consumed her in their wrath, softly breaking every inch of her. Until finally… she shattered.

It was absolutely agonizing, her body trembling as she fell to pieces beneath him, falling her to belly while he kept on, hell bent to make it to his own bone shattering end. She arched her back up into him, his arm wrapped around her flushed chest and his breath beating against the back of her neck like the licking of a bright flame.

"Fuck!" he howled painfully, and crashed atop the soft curves of her back. He let out a low, fiery grunt, his face buried against the crook of her neck. He stayed there a moment, unable to move, every cell in his body quaking from the shellshock.

He finally found the strength to roll onto his back and silently pulled her to his chest, still burning red from the demanding act. She let out a deep breath, his heat swallowing her as she lay there calmly, listening to the rushing sound of his heavily beating heart. This was also something very unfamiliar to her.

"This is usually about the time I tell the guy to leave before I cut it off," she sighed beneath his arm.

"Why does that not surprise me?"

She smiled weakly, glad to see that he still had a sense of humor about him.

"So was I worth staining your morality over?"

He glanced down at her, surprised she was the kind of girl that liked to talk after _the deed was done_.

"I'd rather not answer that," he replied and closed his eyes, his breath beginning to settle.

"So I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a _yes_ ," she smiled coyly, a haughty sense of pride thick in her pretty smirk. "I win."

He opened one eye and glanced back at her, finding her oddly cute.

"I wasn't aware this was a contest…"

She traced her fingers over his dewy chest and smiled. "Everything's a contest in my book."

"I'll keep that in mind next time."

Her grin grew as she pulled herself closer to his lips and mused, "So there's gonna be a _next time_ , huh?"

He shrugged a little blasé. "Maybe…" He gave her a teasing half smile. "But you've gotta quit smoking first."

"Since when do you get to make demands, Grayson?"

He smiled at her smugly and shifted his body, pinning her beneath him. "Since you went and made _this_ a contest, Rose."

He kissed her, unsure if this moment would become a constant between them or not. But if nothing else, at least he didn't see her as a kid anymore.


End file.
